Mr Squirrel

Our woods are dripping with chestnuts. As Moss and I walk through the woods I hear a steady plopping of chestnuts falling through the trees. Beneath my feet there is a spiky carpet of chestnuts burs.

The squirrels, who are not renowned for their good manners, are almost arrogant with the abundance. They are straying further from the trees, which makes them more vulnerable.

Late one morning, whilst walking with Harry Husband, Moss shot off, and almost to her own surprise, caught a squirrel. She held it in her mouth. At which Harry Husband called out, with some authority, “Leave it!” Moss promptly dropped the squirrel. It lay there on its back as if it were dead. Being a curious soul, Moss then dabbed at the squirrel with her front paw, at which Mr Squirrel hopped up and ran off, straight up the nearest tree, leaving Moss staring with bewilderment. It’s such an unlikely scene, you’ll probably think I’ve made it up.

This is the joy of daily walks, unexpected things popping up, however small and trivial they might appear.

AJK